


Red and Gold

by FreshBrains



Series: Femslash Yuletide [7]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum
Genre: Christmas Tree, Closeted, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash Yuletide, Fluff, Pre-Canon, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’d think a smart cookie like me would know a thing or two about putting up a Christmas tree,” Lana grumbled around her cigarette as she crawled on her hands and knees beneath the prickly tree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> For the Femslash Yuletide Day 1 Prompt: Trimming the tree.

Wendy tucked her shopping basket in the crook of her arm and made her way down her favorite aisle in the drugstore—the craft supplies.  She reveled in the safe scents of glue and wood, the musk of silk flowers, the spice of pretty potpourri bouquets on the end-cap.

“Back so soon, Miss Peyser?” Jeff, the pimple-faced teenage employee, asked with a kind smile.

Wendy glanced up and smiled back politely, cheeks already flushing.  “This trip is for me, Jeffrey, not the children.”  She usually spent all over her extra money on new paper and color-crayons for her classroom, or crepe and finger-paints for holiday decorations.  Her room was always the brightest, the most festive.

“Can I help you find anything?” Jeff lingered at the end of the aisle.  Wendy knew he graduated high school the year before, a skinny smart kid who never had a date, and she wondered if he thought she was an easy target—get the old spinster to marry him and give him a few kids so the town would stop pitying the both of them.

Wendy paused in front of a shelf full of different-colored ribbon.  “I don’t think so.  Thank you.”

Jeff nodded and wandered off, and Wendy exhaled deeply.

 _Get something…red._ Lana’s voice came to Wendy’s mind in the same thoughtful, careful tone Lana used when she was putting a good story together.  _Not blood-red, but deeper, darker, like a night-time sleigh ride…does that make sense?  Probably not, but try, will you, honey_?

Wendy smiled, biting her lip so she didn’t look like a fool, and picked up a spool if ribbon from the shelf.  It was a light, gauzy material, like the outside of a summer skirt, with gold threaded through in brilliant streaks.  It would look wonderful woven through the fragrant branches of their Christmas tree.  

And it was the rich color of a pomegranate—Wendy had a warm flash of memory, her and Lana in their bed together last winter, curled up under quilts, Lana breaking open a pomegranate with her bare fingers like it was a coconut.  The juice dripped down her wrist and onto the sheets, Wendy groaned, knowing it would stain, but Lana just laughed.  _Look at us, like two city women.  I can’t believe you found this at the grocery._

Wendy picked up a few slippery seeds and dropped them into her mouth.  _I wanted to surprise you._ Wendy was always worried about boring Lana.

 _You always surprise me,_ Lana said, gazing deep into her eyes, and leaned in for a slick, tart kiss.

Wendy dropped the spool of ribbon into her basket.  It was the perfect find.

*

“You’d think a smart cookie like me would know a thing or two about putting up a Christmas tree,” Lana grumbled around her cigarette as she crawled on her hands and knees beneath the prickly tree.  The line of her stocking peeked out from under her dark green wool skirt, and Wendy grinned to herself. 

“Hello to you too, sweetie,” Wendy said, setting her shopping bag on the sofa.  She closed the door against the wind, a few stray snowflakes making their way inside. “Having fun?”

Lana backed up slowly, bottom wriggling like a puppy’s, the tree swaying precariously above her.  “Not in the least.  I think more needles are on the carpet than the tree at this point.”  She sat on the floor, not caring about the needles pricking her nylons or the fact her blouse was untucked from her skirt.  She took a drag on her cigarette and smiled at Wendy.  “And hello to you.”

Wendy walked over, carefully stepping around their boxes of ornaments from the attic, and leaned down for a quick kiss.  Their Christmas tree always went in front of the bay window, blocking any nosy passersby—it was Wendy’s favorite time of year.  “It looks great, really.  We didn’t even need to get the neighbor to help us this year.”

“Two independent women,” Lana said dryly, offering Wendy a drag on her cigarette. 

“You really shouldn’t smoke under the tree,” Wendy teased.  “That thing will go up in flames.”

“It’s fine,” Lana said, waving her comment away, and nodded towards her bags.  “Ready to trim our tree?  I did the dirty work, I deserve something pretty.”

Wendy slid out of her coat and hung it up.  “I don’t know, you were pretty picky about the colors.  I hope they’ll meet your expectations, your highness.”

Lana laughed, shuffling over to the sofa to look at the findings.  “Oh, Wendy, these are gorgeous.”  She sifted through Wendy’s other finds—gold tinsel, little gold-painted candles, some red felt to make her signature Santa Claus ornaments.  They were small offerings, little things, but Lana’s eyes lit up at every new find.

“And the ribbon?”  Wendy smiled, fingers laced in front of her, anticipating Lana’s reaction.

Lana finally got to the bottom of the bag and picked up the spool of ribbon.  She examined it under the Tiffany lamp on the end-table, the gold flickering warmly in the light.  Her rich brown eyes welled up, but only a little.  “It really is just like the time…”

“I know,” Wendy said, not bothering to hide her smile.  “I knew you’d like it.”  She tucked her hair behind her ears, suddenly shy, like a silly schoolgirl.

Lana stood , brushing off her skirt, and took Wendy in her arms.  “I love having Christmas with you.  We do it well, Wendy Darling.”

“Don’t call me that,” Wendy laughed, breathing in the scent of Lana’s hair, the scent that always told her everything was going to be just fine.  “You get started and I’ll make us some coffee with Bailey’s.”  She wandered to the kitchen and stood for a moment, watching Lana, shoeless and jacket-less with her hair down, cigarette still dangling from her lips as she un-spooled lengths of ribbon and began winding it between the branches of the tree.  She felt how she imagined all women felt with their families on Christmas—warm, gentle, and absolutely loved.


End file.
